


Unless Willing

by terryreviews



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Making Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-05-16 06:54:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19312933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terryreviews/pseuds/terryreviews
Summary: Angels, unless they make an effort, do not really participate in "indulgences". Demons, perhaps, would be different. Where Aziraphale is concerned, he'd like to know what sort of things Crowley has indulged in.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of drabbles that are meant to flow into one coherent story. It isn't finished, being posted in segments as they come to me over on tumblr. As I continue writing, we shall see where it goes. This is being written for a buddy of mine on tumblr and I hope they continue to enjoy it and I hope that those who are reading it now enjoy it.

Unless willing to make an effort, most human experiences were left unexplored by celestial beings. Over the millennia, however, certain activities were not only easily engaged, but actively indulged. Such as eating and getting drunk.

 

The first time Aziraphale had made an effort to eat was still within his first hundred years. It was a very juicy fruit. Yet, he couldn’t recall which.

 

From there, as the world expanded, so didn’t Aziraphale’s pallet and, eventually, his waistline. Not that he noticed. He was more than comfortable going to lunch, with dessert. Especially with Crowley.

 

Crowley, when the angel thought about it, drank certainly, but food held no particular sway over him. Often, even when Aziraphale treated,  Crowley would limit himself to a desert, a glass (or three) of wine. The last meal he recalled seeing the demon eat had been a very expensive steak.

 

Other indulgences he could recall that Crowley had engaged in were naps and television. Aziraphale, truthfully, never understood the desire to be unconscious for any length of time. They didn’t need sleep like mortals did. They didn’t need sushi either but he wasn’t thinking of his indulgences.

 

What other things did Crowley choose to make an effort with? He was a demon, his job required him to be familiar with all sorts of indulgences and what they could lead to if left unchecked. Whether he participated or not was the question.

 

Now that they had the time and freedom, Aziraphale intended to have that question answered.

 

It had been a month since the apocalypse that wasn’t and Crowley either came over or Aziraphale went to Crowley’s nearly every day. No longer afraid of the consequences of their friendship, they openly shared it, damn near flaunted it. They loved each other deeply and being able to express it was such a liberating feeling for both of them even if neither of them was sure how to further this expression.

It was the weekend, a pleasant Saturday, and Aziraphale closed the shop in favor of setting up a small table with a lacy white table cloth with embroidered ducks around the edges.

 

“We can stay in tonight,” he had said on the phone to Crowley that morning, “pick up something to eat?”

 

There had been a pause, “do you even have plates or silverware?”

 

“I can pick some up.”

 

He had, in fact, gone out and at the same quaint shop he’d gotten the cloth, a boxed set of dishes (white with flowers and ivy painted on them), forks, knives, spoons, and napkins. He had a few candles around the shop, dusty and unused, that he set up in the middle of the table and waiting for Crowley to get there.

 

They’d never had a meal in either of their homes, always going out instead or getting a snack from a vendor in the park. Aziraphale would occasionally make himself a cup of tea or have a boxed or bagged snack tucked away in a cabinet, but never a full meal and never with Crowley.

 

Always a first time for everything, that’s what the saying was. Besides, the comfort of someplace familiar would make a perfect backdrop to start delving deeper into conversations that were earlier skirted around or outright left unsaid because of several reasons. One of which, they simply didn’t think about it or if they did, kept it to themselves. Now, Aziraphale was thinking about many things.

 

Namely, Crowley.

 

Part of it came back to the indulgences he’d been pondering and Crowley’s role in them. That seemed to be a good place to start. Maybe. It all depended on how well dinner went. Hopefully, it would be similar to the times they went to the Ritz or a corner shop, easy and fun.

 

Perhaps more so given it would just be them.

 

Aziraphale felt warmth in his chest, Crowley would be here shortly. With a glance at the table, Aziraphale snapped his fingers and upon their plates was a perfectly prepared chicken dinner complete with potatoes and green beans in a cream sauce. He’d ask Crowley what he’d like for dessert when they came to that.

 

“Evening Angel!”

 

He turned around to see Crowley enter the shop, relocking the door behind him.

 

“Evening Crowley,” he shifted on his foot, “I trust you are well?”

 

“Well as I’ve ever been. Better in fact. Nice to not get interrupted when I’m watching tv or something being ordered to go here and there to spread evil.”

 

“Yes, I suppose that is quite a relief.”

 

Crowley tilted his head, “something wrong Angel?”

 

“Nothing, why would you think anything was the matter? I’d tell you if something were the matter of course, now come before the food gets cold.” Aziraphale turned on his heel hoping that Crowley wouldn’t press him further. At least, not yet. He still hadn’t figured out how to broach the topic of indulgence and it worried him that it would bring up unpleasant feelings and memories for his friend.

 

Dinner was a peaceful, quiet, affair. Crowley ate a few bites (Aziraphale finished it) and they were halfway through their third bottle of wine. Neither was drunk, but a light buzz floated in their skulls.

 

In their silence, they sipped and gazed upon one another from across the table. Affection. Waves of it, tangible. Unspoken but there. When Crowley smiled at him, the earlier tension melted away and Aziraphale decided now would be a good time to start his questioning.

 

“Dear?”

 

“Yes, Angel?” The smooth, anticipating tones catching said angel off guard. So much so that the first thing he decided to blurt out was,

 

“Why do you take naps?”

 

Crowley blinked before letting out a loud incredulous laugh, “that is not what I expected you to say.”

 

Aziraphale shifted in his seat, “well, uh, it is related to other things I wanted to talk to you about.”

 

Taking in his friend’s body language, Crowley leaned forward, conspiratorial, “is that so? Why Angel, you’re blushing!” He sounded positively delighted.

Aziraphale turned his face away before mumbling, “yes, well, I wanted to talk to you about…indulgences.”

 

“Indulgences?” The word slipping out silky and slow.

 

“Yes,” Aziraphale reaffirmed himself and stared straight into his friend’s eyes, “I figured as we were no longer bound by any sort of role, we could…explore.”

 

Clearly amused, Crowley rested his chin on his hand, “and so you ask me about naps?”

 

Indignant Aziraphale huffed, “it is a start.”

 

“So, indulgences. What do you want to know Angel?” While he maintained that insufferable smug smirk, he was paying attention, prompting, with his free hand, for Aziraphale to continue.

With an adjusting wiggle, he did, “I know we both have our indulgences.”

“You are fond of cake, yes.” Crowley teased.

“Yes, but I’d rather not dwell on _mine_ at the moment.”

“No?”

With a cough, “no. I’d like…to ask about your’s and why you have them.” He was surprised by his own blunt answer and hoped Crowley would not draw a deeper inferance. Though, judging by the pleased and, dare he say, _interested_ expresion, he was doing just that.

Crowley savored Aziraphale’s bashful shuffling for a moment longer than necessary before purring,

“Oh my, Angel.”

“Do not get the wrong idea!”

“And what idea would that be?” Crowley leaned forward and under the table Aziraphale felt a socked foot just barely touching his shin through his trousers. The plates rattled and the silverware clanked as he banged his knee against one of the legs, “Because it seems it is _you_ getting the _wrong_ one.”

The foot withdrew as quick as it had come and Crowley leaned back into his chair feining innocence.

Aziraphale, to his credit, merely adjusted his jacket (it felt suddenly warm and heavy on his skin) and continued on more firmly.

“There is no _idea_ Crowley. I just…want to know you better.”

His heart fluttered at the raised eyebrow.

“Know me better?”

“Stop that!”

“Stop what Aziraphale?” The way he said his name, soft…tempting. 

“You know what.”

“Afraid I don’t.”

“Dear boy, let’s get back to the topic if you please.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am insanely flattered that SO many people, in such a short time, have come to read this story, have come to lend me their eyeballs and read my work. Very flattered, very grateful.

"Right, naps," Crowley let his lips pop on the P, "refresh my memory."

"Why," Aziraphale's blush, while present, diminished when he realized he had control once more, "do you take naps?"

Crowley knocked back the rest of his wine and decided to humor the angel by giving consideration to his answer. There were multiple, complex, reasons that would be fairly exposing if he revealed them. A brief _because I like them_ would be the truth, but he knew it wasn't what the angel was looking for. The earnest beseechment in Aziraphale's face made that clear. He was right, they didn't' have roles to play anymore and this was just Aziraphale.

Besides, Crowley thought with a grin, if he started slow, it could lay the foundation for what he wanted. What he'd always wanted.

"I don't' know if you've realized this, but sometimes," he let out a breath, "life is hard."

Aziraphale nodded his understanding and waited for Crowley to find his words.

"It is," Crowley tried to find a better, stronger, word than what came to mind. He gave up and said, "nice."

"Nice? How so?"

"You're aware, yet not. It's hard to describe. You're curled up, warm, feeling safe and comfortable. But when you close your eyes, you're dreaming. Floating away from yourself.

All of Aziraphale's focus on his friend, trying to understand the answer.

He asked, "what do you dream about?"

Asked in perfect, unassumptive, innocence, Aziraphale couldn't help tilt his head at the odd expression on the other's face.

"I wonder." Crowley's voice had dropped, his eyes sharpened into something preditorial. That's when it struck him. Crowley was making fun.

"Here now, don't tease."

Crowley's grin grew, "Oh I would _never_ angel. I'm actually quite giving and flexible."

"Crowley, _really_ ," this time Aziraphale huffed. The angel may not be as versed in temptation, flirtation, or teasing, but he was not oblivious either and Crowley's mocking flirtation was quite enough. He was being serious about his questions after all.

"Aziraphale, really. You've been around long enough that a bit of innuendo shouldn't bat an eye."

"If you can't respect my honest attempts at conversation and getting to know you..."

Crowley cut him off with, "you are adorable when frustrated."

"I..." Aziraphale blinked, "well...thank you...I suppose?"

Before losing his advantage, "Aziraphale, I _am_ taking this seriously. And am more than flattered that you want to know me. Better than you already do that is."

Aziraphale stiffed his lip, regaining some of his composure, "then don't tease."

"I don't tease unless asked to Aziraphale."

Never had Crowley turned his temptations onto his friend. Not like this. For six thousand years, Crowley had pined away, burning with the force of _want_. He'd grown accustomed to it to the point he only registered it during those moments when Aziraphale was particularly _Aziraphale_ , creating new and sudden pangs that had to be suppressed as swiftly as they came.

He waited for thousands of years, he could wait just a little while longer. He'd gotten the angel onto their side, he could get him on his back.

There was a moment of silence that passed and Crowley watched Aziraphale's throat bob, his adjusting wiggle.

"I am uncertain where this conversation is going, but if we could direct it back to the initial intent I'd be happy."

"There was never deviance from the intent Angel. There are plenty of ways to get to know me."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No pressure AT ALL, but, and I'm just throwing it out there...I'm a slut for comments. Particularly constructive criticism.

“Like what?” Aziraphale asked.

 

Crowley made a show of thinking before offering, in the same, silky tones he'd used earlier, “like coming to bed with me.”

 

If Aziraphale understood the connotation, he didn't let on. However, he sat even straighter, his cheeks once again aflame, but he tried to keep his expression neutral.

 

“I suppose...if I were to understand the appeal of sleeping...going to bed would be a start.”

 

Crowley forced himself not to leap up, “I wholeheartedly agree. So, do you have a bed?”

 

“No, but you do.”

 

Crowley wanted to melt right then and there, “oh, angel.”

 

“Stop that! I just meant that...you are the one who likes to sleep. Therefore you would know what makes for the most comfortable naps. Your bed would have the proper softness, best sheets, and so forth.”

 

“Right,” this was delicious, “of course. Well, clear this away and we'll get going.”

 

“Get going?” Was it just Crowley, or did Aziraphale squeak?

 

“Why wait? Come to mine tonight. Sleep with me and in the morning I'll buy you breakfast.”

 

“Why do I have to sleep _with_ you? Couldn't we just...” Aziraphale faltered and Crowley picked up,

 

“It's part of _indulgence_. Sleeping with someone,” he let that sit for a moment before adding, “next to you.”

 

Aziraphale reflected on this, on Crowley's teasing, the bubbling in his belly and made his choice.

 

“You are the expert in these matters,” he waved his hand and everything was cleared away. “Let's go. Provided you don't drive like an insane person.”

 

Before Crowley could say anything or Aziraphale lose his nerve, the angel rushed for the door out towards the Bentley out front.

 

“This is turning out to be quite the evening,” Crowley muttered to himself before following, snapping his fingers to turn off the lights and locking the door behind them.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the juicy lemony bits are coming. But there is always a calm before the storm :3

“Here we are,” Crowley held out his hand to usher Aziraphale forward.

 

The night they'd come back from the air field had been the first of several visits the angel visited Crowley's apartment. That night had been fraught with worry and practicing imitating the other (which was fairly easy to do). In the subsequent visits, Crowley would show him television shows which they'd watch together in hours-long marathons, laughing or making commentary on the characters and plot. They'd also drink and Crowley would take out his music (he had no records but there were still plenty of CDs) and introduce Aziraphale to selections of rock and jazz that the angel was certain were just on  _this_ side of tame despite some of the subject matter and bombastic sounds. Different enough to be new, tame enough to ease him into listening.

 

And that's what Crowley was doing now, easing. There was no pressure at this moment. If Aziraphale wanted to leave, he could.

 

He didn't.

 

“Yes, here we are.” He stepped into Crowley's bedroom, the only room in the entire apartment he'd never been inside of. There had never been a need for it. Sleek, gray, red, black, sparse in decoration. The bed and night table took up the majority of floor space. Across from the bed was a stand with a moderately sized flat screen television. Lovely.

 

Well, not because Aziraphale was fond of the overly neat modern aesthetic, but because it was so undeniably Crowley. Cool and generally appealing.

 

“Make yourself comfortable angel.” Crowley slinked in from behind, pushing into the room while removing his jacket as he sauntered into the walk-in closet who's door just opened at his approach.

 

Aziraphale stood near the door, weighing his options. There were no cozy nooks with over stuffed chairs to curl into. No small lounge or anything else one could rest upon. Just the bed.

 

It wasn't that he'd  _never_ been in a bed before. There were those very rare moments, on a chilly winter day, when he'd sat, curled up in a comforter and read. But even still, that wasn't sleeping, which is what Crowley was meant to guide him in tonight.

 

A digital clock next to the bed read “9:30”. 

 

“Isn't it early to go to bed Crowley?” He called out to his friend who had yet to emerge from the closet.

 

“It depends on the person. For me, when I go to bed, I like to do it around this time. That way I can sleep in. Get more bang for my buck as it were,” Crowley called out.

 

“I see,” Aziraphale muttered to himself before giving a shrug and going to the bed. He stood next to it for a moment before reaching his hand out to touch the black comforter. Smooth, soft, cool. It seemed very comfortable indeed.

 

Uncertain what to do, he plopped down on the side of the bed, feeling it squish underneath him, and waited for Crowley to finish what he was doing in the closet.

 

He glanced down at his shoes. He knew he wouldn't need shoes to sleep. He waved his hand and they were put off to the side of the night table. Though he kept his socks on.

 

“You need to get more comfortable than that angel.”

 

Aziraphale looked up to see Crowley in a plain gray tee shirt and pair of shorts. Boxer shorts, silk and probably expensive. He had removed his socks and glasses and, like always, there was  _something_ about seeing Crowley's natural eyes that stirred him.

 

That, and seeing his body so openly exposed, inhabited by its proper owner. Yes, Aziraphale had been in a tank top and shorts whilst being in that body, but he hadn't taken much stock of that fact, more concerned with pulling off the scheme, with sassing Michael, and being worried about how Crowley was fairing in Heaven than how damn beautiful his friend was. Beautiful, that was a perfect word for Crowley's frame, elegant face. Certain handsome, but also beautiful. Made even more so because it was Crowley himself in that form, not Aziraphale imitating him.

 

He was staring. With a cough he said “Oh...” Aziraphale looked down at his own clothes and then back at his friend.

 

“Should I wear what you are wearing?”

 

Crowley shrugged and without warning, plopped down next to Aziraphale on the bed.

 

“I mean, I'm most comfortable when I have the least amount of clothes on as possible.” He gestured to himself and once more Aziraphale got the impression he was being teased. Had Crowley noticed the way the angel had stared at him, drank in his slim form, the stunning color of his eyes?

 

“Perhaps, in that case, I'll follow suit.”

 

“I think that would be best. Just go in your undershirt and underwear.” Crowley glanced down at Aziraphale's lap, “you do have underwear on don't you?”

 

“Of course I do,” Aziraphale blustered. “They may not be as expensive as your's, but they are perfectly practical.”

 

Crowley looked back at Aziraphale's face, deadpan, “you're still wearing those ugly things from a hundred years ago aren't you?”

 

“They are not ugly!”

 

“I'll have to take you shopping.”

 

“That won't be necessary.”

 

“You need an updated wardrobe.”

 

“Can we please stop talking about my undergarments?” 

 

With a flourish, Aziraphale was suddenly in a white silk, long-sleeved, button-up with matching drawstring bottoms. Socks were miracled off his feet and into his shoes and he looked at Crowley with apprehension.

 

“I know that this wasn't you instructed, but I thought this would be fitting for me.”

 

Crowley raised a finger and ran it along the arm of Aziraphale's sleeve, a hint of heat permeating the fabric where he touched.

 

“It does.” Was that a trace of admiration? “Where did you get the idea for these?”

 

“A sweet Christmas movie I happened to see last year.”

 

“You watched a movie?”

 

“Not so much watched as occasionally see it behind you on a mounted television in a diner.”

 

Crowley snorted, “perfectly you Aziraphale.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

They looked at each other before Aziraphale pulled away (when had he been leaning?)

 

“Ah, yes, so now we lay down?”

 

“Yes. What side would you like?”

 

“Does it matter?”

 

“To some. I once knew a nun who only wanted to sleep on the right side or on top of me.”

 

“A nun? Really dear?”

 

“Never said she was a good one.”

 

Aziraphale sighed but continued on, “I'm not particular. Tell me how you want me.”

 

At Crowley's expression, Aziraphale gave a light smack to his arm.

 

“And you say I'm the tease angel.”

 

“Crowley.”

 

“Alright, alright. Lay on the right side, closest to the window.”

 

In order to do this, Aziraphale had to get up and go over to the other side. While he was doing so, Crowley scampered up the bed and tugged down the comforter and slid underneath it, bringing his hands to rest under his head, both of which he rested on the pillow.

 

He looked ever like the cat who caught the canary as he lifted the blanket so Aziraphale could climb under with him.

“Cozy?”

 

While Aziraphale couldn't feel the actual sheets against his skin (save his feet, against which they were smooth and cool) the feel of being enveloped offered a sense of comfort. Like being wrapped in a hug. It had been a while since he'd been hugged. Or gave one. 

 

He looked at Crowley from the corner of his eye and the other was watching him, a peaceful smile on his face. One that was returned as Aziraphale settled himself against his own pillow.

 

“So far, so good.” He assured the demon.

 

“Yeah? Good. What you want to do now is let yourself sink into the bed. Close your eyes, slow your breathing, and empty your mind. Let yourself relax. Nothing matters. Just let yourself drift.” On each instruction, Crowley demonstrated. Letting his body grow loose and heavy, closing his eyes, slowed his breathing. “And, if you do it right, let yourself be weary, let all that weight seep into you and subsequently out of you because you're resting, you'll fall asleep.”

 

“I'll do my best.” Aziraphale assured and proceeded to mimic his friend. Closing his eyes, breath coming slow and deep, and letting himself feel the weight and weariness while not filling his mind with worry or bad memories. So used to being productive at night, at all times really, he found it difficult to turn his mind off. And what preoccupied his thoughts at this moment? Crowley.

 

The bed smelled of him. His body heat, while not as strong as Aziraphale's given his snake nature, radiated towards him. And, peeling his eye open so he could peek, he realized he'd never seen Crowley asleep before. 

 

Almost after his instructions, Crowley, as if by willing it, was sound asleep. Eyes rolled back and forth under his eyelids. He was dreaming. It struck him how far they had come in their friendship since the early days and The Arrangement. Crowley trusted him enough, no questions asked, to be at his most vulnerable. This was the first time Crowley had been this vulnerable around him. No efforts to be anything other than himself. After six thousand years, there were still firsts to be found.

 

Tentative, Aziraphale reached out a hand and brushed his fingers along the demon's hair line. So serene. So beautiful and serene. Crowley deserved this. The chance to feel safe enough to be this serene.

 

“Oh my dear boy,” Aziraphale muttered to himself as he withdrew his hand and made a considerable effort to follow Crowley's instructions.

 

Despite Crowley floating in his mind's eye, Aziraphale finally managed to drift off.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that this particular chapter is short, but that is because I'm planning for the next chapter to be longer and want to take my time with it whilst not leaving you guys hanging.
> 
> I really hope you like it despite it being brief.

The sweet ache of longing, the thrill of that longing being consummated, prompted him to tease and tempt. Aziraphale being so perfectly himself, kind and flustered, only added to the excitement.

 

He hadn't intended to fall asleep.

 

The first thing he became aware of was the scent of a familiar, delicate cologne. Peeling his eyes open, he realized that, in their sleep, they had shifted. Aziraphale was on his side and Crowley was pressed against his back, face mushed between his friend's shoulder blades. His arms were held firm against his chest, legs tangled in the blankets so that one hung out, one tucked beneath.

 

In fact, his whole upper body (save where it touched the angel) was cold. Propped himself on his arm, he looked over his and Aziraphale's bodies and found that the angel had yanked the majority of the blankets towards himself, clutching them tightly in his hands, curled up.

 

Typically, if his partners spent the night (rare but had happened) and they stole the sheets, he was fond of shoving them out of the bed to wake them up.

 

This time, he merely took in the profile of his friend's face. Aziraphale, for lack of a better term, was scrunched but comfortable. Eyes closed, mouth slight agape (he'd have to tease him about the bit of drool later), blankets clutched just under the chin. Cute. Just so damn cute.

 

Clearly, Aziraphale needed this and just hadn't known. Crowley’s heartbeat began to pump just that much harder when an idea occurred to him. The angel wanted to know about indulgence, well...there was yet another one Crowley could introduce him to. Maybe not the way he'd intended last night, but there were early mornings.

 

Gingerly, he reached his arm over the angel's sleeping body and placed it on his stomach. Then, just as careful, he maneuvered his body to press against his back. Not tight, but enough for the angel to be aware when he woke up.

 

He looked at the clock and it read 6:03. The angel's steady breathing and comfort made it so Crowley decided to wait. At 8 am exactly, he was going to tempt Aziraphale in such a way that not even the Angel could pretend it was anything other than what it was.

 

For now, he indulged himself, pressing just that much closer, savoring that scent and trying to keep himself from becoming impatient and just waking his friend right then and there. Slow and steady wasn't it that won the race? He'd been in this race a long time, he was almost there. Just a little longer now.

 


	6. Let it be Perfect pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh goodness, thank you all for your kindness in reading this and for feeding my hunger for validation with your comments (I genuinely re-read them and get so excited to receive them, not gonna lie. If anyone has constructive criticism I take that as well:). I really am grateful for your readership, I'm glad that I can share my enthusiasm for these two with you and we can bond over it, and just thank you very much.
> 
> Now, when it comes to this chapter, I don't think it is longer than the previous chapter like I hoped, unfortunately, and the way I left it off leaves me nervous because now I really have to contemplate the 'perfect' experience for Az. Hopefully, with pt. 2 (already have the climax *haha* of it written, just have to get there) this will be done well.

7:53, Aziraphale gave a snortish breath and jerked.

 

Against his ear, Crowley's voice was low,

 

“Good morning angel.”

 

Despite being groggy (similar, but not quite, to being drunk) he picked up on several things. A tangible mixture of emotions overwhelmed his sense, Crowley was pressed full bodied against his back, the demon's hand rubbed circles on his belly. He swallowed.

 

“Good morning dear boy.”

 

“Enjoy your sleep?”

 

“I did,” he remained utterly still, only catching Crowley's face from the corner of his eye. The other was smiling.

 

“Did you dream?”

 

“Yes.” It was on the edge of his mind's eye, vague, but he recalled the flashes from his very first dream.

 

“Tell me?”

 

Aziraphale jumped as Crowley tightened the arm around him and began to, very lightly, nuzzle at the nape of his neck.

 

“Uh, yes, well, we were in the park.”

 

“Were we?” The tip of Crowley's nose brushed along the back of his neck.

 

“Mhm, having a picnic.”

 

“Sounds lovely,” Crowley's fingers wiggled into the flap at the end of Aziraphale's shirt, tracing the skin around his belly button.

 

Aziraphale let out a cough, “it was.”

 

“Instead of breakfast perhaps I'll get us a picnic basket and we can have lunch in the park.”

 

“But if,” Aziraphale took a breath, “we aren't going to breakfast, what will we do instead?”

 

Almost instantly he felt Crowley tug at him. Gentle, but insistent.

 

Once on his back, he saw Crowley's face above him. Pupils wide, cheeks flushed and hair messed, lips slightly parted.

 

“You wanted to know about indulgences Aziraphale?” Crowley adjusted so his arms bracketed the other's head, their chests together and Crowley leaned down so that their lips just barely touched.

 

“Let me introduce you to one of my favorites. Early morning fu...love making.”

 

Aziraphale's jaw dropped, but his eyes never left Crowley's.

 

“Lovemaking?” Aziraphale squeaked.

 

“I'm _good_ Aziraphale. I'm _really_ good. I can have you leave this bed with a limp and smile. I can get you to beg for more and I'll give it to you. All of it angel. Anything you want. Just...please.”

 

With that, Crowley closed the distance and kissed Aziraphale with the passion of six thousand years of repression. Thousands of nights spent coming into his own hand or taking home someone else and pretending it was the angel. So many cold showers and even colder beds. If nothing else, if Aziraphale pushed him away and never wanted to see him again after this, he had this kiss to hold onto.

 

A weight was suddenly wrapped around his neck and he realized when a button scratched at his skin that the angel had put his arms around Crowley's neck and he  _groaned_ into Aziraphale's mouth. 

 

Never, no matter how long he lived, never would he forget this moment where Aziraphale kissed him back.

 

They pulled away for a moment and Aziraphale looked at him with such love in his lidded eyes that it made Crowley's chest hurt.

 

“I've never...never...”Aziraphale turned his face away, only for Crowley to catch it under his chin and turn it back to him.

 

“I know. Trust me? Trust me and I will take care of you. If you don't like something, tell me and I'll stop.”

 

Unable to find words, Aziraphale merely nodded and before losing nerve, he lifted his lips up to touch against the demon's. Sloppy but earnest as he tugged the demon down.

 

He was so hard, throbbing, in his shorts, that he kept his pelvis away from Aziraphale's. Had this been someone else, he might've already had them pinned into the mattress, rutting against them like an animal while snarling into their ear what a dirty slut they were and relish their little, false denials as they spread their legs further for him, begging him to do whatever he wanted with their bodies.

 

Not with Aziraphale. He had respect, contrary to belief, for the tastes of his partners. They tended to like it on this side of rough, this side of outright filthy, and he never would shame them for it. He liked it too and always made sure they were taken care of before shoving them out of his bed, or out of his car. But with Aziraphale, shy and new, best to save that kind of stuff for later. They had all the time now to explore.

 

Instead, he ran his palms along Aziraphale's chest first, letting the silky fabric bunch under his fingers, feeling Aziraphale's sigh rise and fall, the breath of it against his lips.

 

“Oh my dear, I...I don't even need to make an effort with you,” Aziraphale muttered, eyes had drifted closed, arms heavy and loose around Crowley's neck as he relaxed under the demon's hands.

 

Hearing that nearly made Crowley spill right then and there, especially when he felt the bulge of Aziraphale's non-effort bump his hip. All he'd have to do is straddle the other.

 

“I'm already here with you angel, you don't need to flatter me,” he smirked as Aziraphale gave him a light pinch to the back of his neck.

 

“Oh shush,” Aziraphale's eyes had opened and he was pouting, but it was belayed by the utter _want_ in his face.

 

Crowley leaned back down to capture Aziraphale's lips once more, tasting, slow and deep.

 

When he pulled away, he reached his hands down and began undoing each of the buttons on Aziraphale's top, ensuring that he went slow enough to tantalize but fast enough not to tease,. Let his body, let all his skill, be perfect for this one night. Let everything in his six thousand years of temptation be perfect for his angel. Simple, slow for him, but perfect.

 

 

 


	7. Let it be Perfect pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided the actual lovemaking will be its own chapter. For now, I hope that this is tantalizing enough.

“I've waited thousands for years for _this_. For _you_ Aziraphale,” Crowley's voice had gone low, and he brought his lips to the exposed part of the angel's chest while still undoing the rest of the buttons with his hands, all the practice of a skilled artist. That's what Crowley was, an artist as he opened Aziraphale's shirt completely and placed a tender kiss between his pectorals and chuckled at the jolt he received in return.

 

“I'm going to take my time savoring you. Commit every inch, every sound, to memory,” he husked, rubbing his hands against Aziraphale's plump belly, feeling Aziraphale's groan more than hearing it under his hands and lips. 

 

Of its own accord, Crowley's tongue came out and with its forked end flicked first at just the muscle of Aziraphale's chest and then it moved towards a nipple.

 

“Oh!”

 

“Like that?”

 

“Yes,” Aziraphale sighed.

 

It struck Crowley just how much the angel trusted him. Despite being a bit nervous, a little shy, Aziraphale hadn't put up a singular piece of resistance to Crowley's touch. No trying to hide his body for fear of judgment, no looking away if Crowley wanted to look at him, no lies about how such a few small things made him feel good. Just trust that Crowley would keep his word and take care of him. Again, his chest hurt, and before he could dwell on it, he put himself to his task with far more vigor. 

 

His hands ran along his belly and hips as he laved at Aziraphale's nipples. First one, then the other, and while Aziraphale didn't writhe, he wiggled, he sighed, and his fists clenched on either side of his body into the blanket, head thrown back into the pillow.

 

“I've barely started angel and your already breathless,” he teased as he let his teeth graze a wet, hard nipple, before giving a small nip.

 

“You do this to me, dear,” Aziraphale replied, opening his eyes into heated slits and tentatively, he raised a singular hand to rest on top of Crowley's hair, letting his fingers run through the demon's hair.

 

“Mmm, keep doing that. Yank it if you want. I like it.” Crowley hummed before mouthing at Aziraphale's belly and the angel complied with the request, giving a small tug at the base of his skull.

 

“You prefer things to be rougher don't you?”

 

“I'm flexible,” Crowley pressed a kiss to Aziraphale's hip in reassurance when he heard the concern in his voice, knowing that the angel was feeling self-conscious about his lack of experience. “And I _prefer_ whatever it is you want Aziraphale. I already told you, whatever you want. Do you have any ideas?” He lifted his gaze from where he was and the angel stroked his hair, a fondness in his gaze.

 

“Nothing really. Vague, barely there concepts. I've never given any serious consideration to sex before. There was never a need to. But one does read the most extraordinary things.”

 

Crowley's felt his cock twitch. The very idea that Aziraphale, prim and proper, read smutty little novels...

 

“Does one now? And are you going to keep me in anticipation?” 

 

Aziraphale cleared his throat, and resisted looking away as he said, “I admit I'm curious about...your tongue.”

 

Crowley made sure Aziraphale's eyes were on his before allowing said tongue to come out and lick at his lips.

 

“You are? Then I'll have to give you the answer then.”

 

Crowley's fingers looped into the waistband of Aziraphale's sleep pants.

 

“Thank goodness, no more buttons!” 

 

Aziraphale laughed, “I'll bear that inconvenience in mind for future encounters.”

 

Future. They had a future.

 

Aziraphale's fingers carded through Crowley's hair in one smooth pat, followed by another, before coming to rest in the fluffy bit at the top.

 

Crowley shuddered and with no preamble, tugged, freeing Aziraphale's cock. Red, glistening, and plump.

 

“Beautiful non-effort angel. Not too long, plump and ready.”

 

He wanted to ease. He wanted to take his time and savor. He waited. Oh, how he had waited and he was finally getting what he wanted. Aziraphale. Just Aziraphale. 

 

“Angel,” Crowley whispered as he nuzzled just so at the soft hair just above his love's...well Aziraphale would want him to say something modest like member or shaft, but Crowley was fond of the word cock. 

 

“Dearest.”

 

Crowley closed his eyes then and groaned. He would never admit it, but he adored getting praise from his angel. His angel, who saw him as more than  _what_ he is but who he is. Who offered him grateful grins and small compliments. 

 

“I'm going to make this worth the wait Aziraphale, just brace yourself.”

 

He meant to work it up, but instead, Crowley decided to remind them both they weren't human and as such had no concern for gag reflexes, and in one smooth motion, took the angel down to the root. 

 

“Good lord!”

 

Crowley scrambled to push Aziraphale's hips down before setting to wrapping his serpentine tongue around the hot shaft and bobbing his head.

 

“Crowley! Oh, love!” Those were the last coherent words Aziraphale could manage before Crowley set to work. Lips wrapped around the taut flesh, tongue swirling. He pulled off to kiss all along the shaft and the head, delighting in the salty taste he found. 

 

With flourish, he brought his tongue back to the task and looped and lapped at Aziraphale as a dog does at a treat. Messy, and wet, and he had to dig his fingers into the angel's hips to keep him from thrashing as he damn near shouted. The hand in his hair holding tight.

 

True to his word, Crowley did not tease. He worked diligently, sucking, up and down, toying with the slit, hummed. If he thought that Aziraphale could stay still for a second, he would have used his hands.

 

Not to tease, just prolong, he'd pull away to nuzzle at the angel's balls, give them a bit of a suck.

 

“Crow...” he felt a sharp pull and let himself be pulled off.

 

“What's wrong angel?”

 

The angel's head was thrown back, eyes closed, sweat coating his skin, he answered from the pillow, “Oh...” Aziraphale panted, “I  _knew_ but...it is so...I didn't think that it was going to be that strong.”

 

Crowley could help it and snorted, “You won't let me finish you because it is too strong?”

 

“Crowley, don't tease me. You said you wouldn't.” He whined, desperate and soft.

 

“I'm sorry Aziraphale, you're right, I did,” Crowley offered a pat pat to a thick thigh, “forgive me, angel, it is just so adorable to see you that overwhelmed.”

 

“I feel like I'm on _fire_. Everything is hot and tingling. Everything is so focused _there_ yet everywhere. I'm...I'm unused to it.”

 

Crowley could barely handle this new information, both arousing and hilarious and he was shaking with the effort to repress both reactions.

 

“You're not going to die from an orgasm angel.”

 

“It feels like it.”

 

“Do you trust me?”

 

Aziraphale gave a breath, “of course I do.”

 

“Then let me make you come, darling,” his palms rubbed circles around the angel's thighs and hips until Aziraphale's shaking subsided and he heard,

 

“Alright.”

 

Slower this time, he brought his lips down, placing little kisses along the shaft, feeling it pulse and once more ran his tongue in stripes under, over, and around, but avoided taking the angel into his mouth this time, favoring mouthing at the sides instead.

 

“Crowley, I'm...I think,” toes were curling, breath coming tight.

 

“Let go, let go darling,” Crowley cooed, adjusting his body so that he could be next to Aziraphale (moving the angel's hand to the sheets), stroking him, bringing him closer to his climax, watching his face as the Angel, being released, tossed and thrashed before going utterly rigid.

 

“Crowley! Oh...Ahhhhh...” Aziraphale managed to shout before being choked off with a high pitched, long, noise and with that, he came.

 

Crowley watched between the cock in his hand, squirting into the air before falling back in oozing stripes on his fingers, slipping under to his palm in several bursts, and the angel's face, scrunched, red, and damn near blissed out.

 

It took several shaking minutes but eventually, Aziraphale's breath returned to normal, and before Crowley could process what happened, he found his mouth mashed against the angel's, arms around his upper back.

 

“Dear boy, oh love,” Aziraphale muttered between kisses, squeezing the breath out of the demon.

 

“I take it you enjoyed yourself? Not so scary right?”

 

“I can't believe...all of these years...”

 

“Shh, we're here now,” Crowley pressed a kiss to Aziraphale's forehead, smiling, his own arousal temporarily forgotten as he basked in the angel's afterglow.

 

“Crowley?”

 

“Yes?”

 

Aziraphale looked at Crowley, cupped his cheek and said, “make love to me.”

 

 

 


	8. Let it be Perfect pt. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy. Comments/criticism is encouraged :)
> 
> I do think I kept it rather simple and vanilla but I hope the emotional aspects (the most important) are conveyed well.

Crowley could have wept with the surge of love that filled his core. He closed his eyes and hoarsely said, "Of course, angel. Of course, I will."

He brought his hands to cup the angel's face and pressed their lips together.

He had planned to take his time, make it linger, but perhaps six thousand years had been slow enough. He snapped his fingers and was nude, his flesh pressed against Aziraphale's.

"Let me see you, dear boy," Aziraphale pleaded and with no hesitation, Crowley sat up and leaned back, giving the angel the perfect view of his body.

The pure admiration in how those blue eyes ran up, then down, the gentle touch of the angel's finger tips as the other reached out and ran those tips down his chest, gave Crowley's heart an unnecessary lurch.

"You are stunning." Aziraphale's voice was low, thick with the drowsy exhilaration of lust and so full of sincerity. Fingers trailed down his navel, dipped into his belly button (something neither of them should have and was once brought up a number of years ago over drinks), before going further.

Tips grazed along his neglected shaft and Crowley jumped. With a shrill laugh that he'd deny, he swatted Aziraphale's hand away.

"Don't do that, you'll set me off."

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, lazy smirk formed, "I may not be _experienced_ , but I had assumed a little fondling wouldn't set a demon off. I assumed they had higher stamina."

Crowley blinked before falling over the angel with a playful growl.

"You! Must not be doing my job if you're coherent enough to joke."

Feeling bold, Aziraphale pushed his hips upward, and for a moment their cocks brushed with the angel half-hard, growing harder in anticipation.

"Must not be."

"And you called me a tease."

"I learned it from you."

Another kiss and another snap and Aziraphale whimpered finding his hole loose, wet, and warm, and more than stimulated.

"Shh," Crowley soothed, "next time I'll do it the old fashioned way but, fuck angel I can't wait anymore." He shifted, putting himself between the other's thighs, using his thumbs to rub at his temples. "It won't hurt. I swear to you it won't. I'd die before hurting you."

Aziraphale ran a hand through Crowley's hair.

"The sentiment is mutual dearest."

Crowley set about adjusting Aziraphale, spreading his legs just that much wider, pushing his knees up. With a few rapid kisses, Crowley then turned his attention to his task. Looking down, he took his cock in hand and lined himself up. Aziraphale gasped when the head touched his hole.

"Breathe, keep relaxed. I'll be gentle."

With one last lingering kiss, Crowley began to push forward.

"Oh good lord!"

He hissed as Aziraphale reflexively clenched around him, halting his progress halfway in.

"You okay? Does it hurt?"

"No, no, no pain," Aziraphale panted, "please."

Gritting his teeth, and forcing his eyes to stay open so he could watch Aziraphale's face, he pushed further.

Aziraphale grew tense before his body yielded, sagging into the bed, "oh my!"

Cheek red, lips swollen, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes opened but unfocused and glassy. Beautiful. _He_ did this. He was giving this to his angel.

Letting him adjust, Crowley kissed at the angel's neck, running his tongue against the skin every so often, loving the feel of Aziraphale's cock prodding his belly, hard, hot, dribbling.

"Crowley, please, please move. Please."

Crowley didn't need to be asked twice, and with considerable control, kept his thrusts slow. Deep and slow. He might've rushed the foreplay, he wasn't about to rush this.

"Feel it, angel?" He asked once his rhythm was set, "do you feel how much I love you?"

Aziraphale's head feel back into the pillow and tossed back and forth, "yes, oh Crowley. It feels wonderful. I love you too. Oh, how I love you, darling. So very long have I wanted to be with you."

"Me too, me too Aziraphale. Always. Always and forever, just you. Only you." Crowley gave a wiggle to his hips earning a sharp sound and felt the weight of Aziraphale's legs wrapping around his middle, pulling him closer and deeper, arms coming to wrap around his upper back and neck respectfully.

Their bodies were twined in a sticky series of thumps and their breaths, groans, and sighs filled the room. Crowley buried his face into Aziraphale's neck and inhaled. His human nose more limited than his snake form, but still...sweet and musky from that new cologne. Paper, and dust. Aziraphale.

Slow and steady. It burned all over, tingled from head to toe, but no matter how Aziraphale squirmed, no matter how close they approached the edge, Crowley kept that easy pace.

"Pl..please...Crowley."

"Please what sweetheart?" He nipped his ear.

"Faster? Please?"

"So you want to be overwhelmed now?" Crowley smirked as he away, going straight up on his knees, having Aziraphale's hands fall to the bedsheets, which he instantly grabbed in his fists.

"Crowley!"

"Easy angel, I've got you. Can never deny you. You pout so pretty."

Before Aziraphale could respond, Crowley was gripping his hips and, just like he drove the Bentley, he went hard and fast.

"Oh...fu..."

"Say it Angel, go on."

"How are you...still..."

"Demonic stamina"

"Damn you."

Crowley laughed, "You know you want to say it, don't get shy now." He gave a particularly hard thrust.

"Ah, fuck!"

"There you go. There you go, angel. Come on, keep talking. I like it."

"You wicked...wily serpent."

Crowley bent his body close to Aziraphale, touching his nose to the other's, "the wiliest."

"Fuck Crowley, I'm on fire."

Crowley, fucked just that much harder, watching Aziraphale slide up on the pillows, feeling his back arch, and he reached his hand down and wrapped it around Aziraphale's cock, giving a firm stroke.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale couldn't open his eyes, body awash in pleasure. Had he done so, he would have seen Crowley. Sweaty, eyes so yellow and focused, teeth becoming fang like as they dug into his lip, so very much in love.

"You're doing wonderful Aziraphale," His voice thick now, letting the pleasure consume  him as Aziraphale was near the end. He began to stroke the other in earnest and on every other stroke gave a little rotation of his hips, making sure to drive deep and let the other feel him drag out.

"I...Crow...I..." Aziraphale's entire body tensed and before he could stop himself, he came. Thick, long spurts that covered his and Crowley's bellys and the demon's hand. He couldn't make a sound, head thrown back in a silent scream as his body trembled, each nerve firing off in short bursts.

Through the tremmers and aftershocks, Crowley pushed him through, stroking and thrusting until Aziraphale collapsed into the matress and Crowley pulled out, giving himself just those few quick strokes to come onto Aziraphale's cock and lower belly with a shout.

 

Panting, and exhausted, Crowley slithered next to Aziraphale and wrapped his arms and legs around the other, only to have him turn to face him and return the gesture. Neither bothering to remove the sticky mess between them.

"That...was amazing."

Crowley gave a tired smirk, "no quips about demonic stamina now eh?"

"Shush," Aziraphale kissed the tip of his nose. An oddly chaste but sweet gesture.

A few minutes passed as they basked in the after glow, trading lazy kisses and easy caresses.

"Thank you, Crowley. Truly."

"No need to thank me angel, the pleasure was all mine."

Another pause,

"Should we get started prepping that picnic?" Crowley asked.

"I think it would be best if we had a...what is it? Lie in?"

"Brilliant idea, angel."

 

 


	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all very much. Your enthusiasm, your kind words, really helped keep me motivated and give me something to smile at. I'm glad that through my writing over something we all love that I could brighten your days as well.

With six thousand years of pining to catch up on, it was damn near miraculous that it only took a week before they crawled out of Crowley's bed.

Hand in hand, something Aziraphale insisted on ( ' _oh really dearest, after all we've done this past week? You held my penis you can't hold my_ _hand_?' _To which a rather bashful Crowley twined their fingers together with a muttered 'just not used to the...' he tapered off and Aziraphale finished with 'affection?' Crowley merely turned his head away and squeezed the other's hand_ _before setting out )_ they took their time, shopping in that same little home good store the angel had done for the dinner to find the perfect set up for their pinic.

Wine, fruit, cakes, and little sandwiches, and they sat side by side, watching the ducks. Safe, content, and very much in love.

 


End file.
